


This World Seems a Better Place

by Loz



Category: Psych
Genre: Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot, i'm so sorry for a line in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loz/pseuds/Loz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This features some relatively awkward first time sexscapades and ill-advised quotes. Also, references to Eric Stolz, a whole lot of honesty, and insecure!Shawn.</p><p>  <i>He didn't want Shawn playing it safe. That kind of defeated the whole reasoning behind allowing himself to accept his attraction. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	This World Seems a Better Place

**Author's Note:**

> Set after ['The Closet and Dr Caligari'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/383082), though you don't really have to have read that for this to make sense. That fic was sexless, so this fic is all sex. It's a thank you fic for those who brought me up when I was feeling down.

They're watching _Some Kind of Wonderful_. "Eric Stolz," is all that had to be said. Shawn is tucked into his side on the couch, sprawling over Gus in the way he always has; claiming him as his property, to commandeer and command. So, his legs are lying over Gus's legs, his arm is touching his shoulder as it snakes along the backrest, the warmth is seeping from his skin to Gus's like the sun heats the sidewalk in the morning. And, beyond the kissing, this is the most they've touched. 

It's been six weeks. A month and a half. One thousand and eight hours since their relationship turned physical. At least in theory. In that time, Gus has tried, on several occasions, to seduce Shawn. He's invited himself over late at night (and been given spare blankets and direction toward the couch.) He's crept into the bathroom when Shawn's been showering (and been shooed away with only the slightest of glimpses.) He's moved his hands to places (before immediately finding Shawn's hands clasping over the top of his and moving them to other, above the belt places.) He's spent an entire day speaking in nothing but innuendo. But he's been shot down in flames every time. And when they've discussed this? Because they do that, now, they talk about their feelings, and it is always uncomfortable, but it cuts a lot of awkwardness and misunderstanding out of their days. When they’ve talked it through? Shawn says he doesn't want to scare Gus off. 

Gus doesn't want Shawn playing it safe. That kind of defeats his whole reasoning behind allowing himself to accept his attraction. It had felt so much longer than a week for Gus to realize that he wanted Shawn in this way. A week of them dancing around one another and getting filled with angst. A week of them trying to solve a murder involving a scary hypnotist. Gus now actually _wants Shawn in this way_. He's kind of relentless about telling and showing him. 

He’s hyper-aware of every second they touch. Every brush of their knuckles, every swipe of their fingertips. He rubs Shawn's ankle, tickling the hair on his shin, stoking against his Achilles' heel. 

"Gus, doesn't be an over-affectionate sea-anemone," Shawn murmurs. 

Gus ignores him and glides his fingers up to stroke at the back of Shawn's knee. He doesn't approve of tartan manpris as a rule, but when it means he easily has soft, vulnerable skin at his fingertips, he can't complain too much.

"It's been six weeks, Shawn," Gus intones, deliberately using this thickest, smoothest voice, the one that makes Shawn's eyes go wide. "A player needs a slam-dunk."

Shawn pauses the movie. "That makes absolutely no sense. Also, you've been celibate for eighteen months. My six weeks of making you wait pale in comparison. Also, also, you should like that I don't only want you for your body."

"I already know and like that, I've known and liked that since we were five," Gus reasons. "The time has come for more bodily worship."

Shawn quirks an eyebrow. "Oh, Gus's body, you're divine. I bow down at your altar and praise you in all your magnificence."

Gus sighs and tips Shawn's legs off. "It's not that I’m aiming to pressure you, but I thought you wanted this? I thought you wanted me?"

"And I do! I'm wooing you."

Gus rolls his shoulders. Little Shawn has gotten bigger over the last couple of weeks; a stiff knot he can’t seem to be able to ease away. He's unimpressed and indignant and why does this all have to be so hard? They practically have their own language. They know one another better than they know themselves. They've long conquered all of the relationship intricacies that most new couples struggle with --- knowing how to order the ideal pizza when one loves pineapple and the other hates ham, being comfortable enough in each others presence for natural bodily functions, navigating around bad habits and personality quirks. They've always had the almost-scary co-dependency, finishing of each others sentences, and physical closeness. In fact, for two weeks, no one who knows them even noticed they were _together_ , because they thought the frequent kissing was an attempt at a Guinness World Record. All of this should be easy.

"Okay," Shawn says, and he sounds resigned. "You wanna know why I feel like I need more time?" Upon Gus's nod, Shawn continues. "I have a confession to make." 

“I’m all ears,” Gus says, because he kind of is. If there’s another reason Shawn’s taking this slower than the slowest minutes of _Slow Burn_ , he wants to know if it's something about which he should be concerned.

Shawn says his next sentence all in a rush. "I get porntastically ridiculous when I have sex."

Gus blinks, once, shifts his position to look at Shawn. Really? _Really?_ This is why Shawn’s been holding back?

"Why do you think I'd be surprised?"

"I mean the whole works. Stupid sounds, foolish words. I'm not talking about a basic 'Oh my God', or 'Fuck me. Harder.' I have a filthy, _filthy_ , over-exaggerated mouth. I've been taking time practicing being silent because I just want to be sure I can keep myself under control."

"And I ask again, only slightly more staccato: why do you think I'd be surprised?" Gus holds Shawn's hand and rubs softly. It’s good, but not enough, not anymore. "I can take it, Shawn, I can take you. I don't want you to be controlled. You don't have to be worried about chasing me away. "

"Aren’t you… scared? I mean, this is all new for you. You’re not the greatest fan of new things, Gus. You cried when you heard Taco Bell were bringing out a new Doritos shell. They weren't even tears of joy."

Gus smiles, slow and exacting. “I’ve been doing research.”

Shawn visibly swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the kind of way that makes Gus want to lick it. The glazed look in Shawn’s eyes speaks of him visualizing what Gus is deliberately implying. And it's not a word of a lie. Admitting to himself he was attracted to Shawn was very freeing. It also ignited his obsessive streak. His imagination has been going into overdrive ever since their second kiss and he wants to test it out. He's been reading and watching videos and taking notes, which he was sure Shawn would have known, because privacy and common decency mean nothing to him, but Shawn's still looking shell-shocked.

"I can't decide whether you're unspeakably hot or entirely as terrifying as you claim I am."

"I'm both, Shawn, get with the program," Gus says, inching closer to Shawn and carefully, slowly, placing one hand high up on his thigh.

"Sex-vixen-Gus has come out to play, I see," Shawn says, and it's obvious he's trying to be cool and collected, but the words are strained; high and breathy, and Gus may not have Shawn's observational skills or eidetic memory, but he knows what that indicates. 

They don't rush. It's all kissing and barely-there touches for a long time. Part of Gus really, really wants to speed things along, but the considerate best friend part who remembers that Shawn has been on this page of the text since his hormones kicked into gear takes every ounce of his self-restraint and brandishes it like a sword. 

Eventually, though, Gus can't wait, and he starts with dipping a hand below Shawn's waistband as they're kissing, the heat of Shawn's dick a welcome shock against the palm of his hand. Shawn is thick and as Gus moves he gets harder and harder. And, God, this is one part of Shawn Gus has never touched before, never been allowed before, and just thinking about that snaps something deep inside, a tiny thread of discipline, so much so that Gus is just as stiff in his own trousers; a fact Shawn couldn't have failed to notice. 

"Nnnngh," Shawn says, coherently, and then, after a beat, "yeah, stroke that fat disco stick."

Gus stops for a second, two, squeezing the base of Shawn's cock. That invocation should be horrible and off-putting. It's totally unsexy and absolutely inappropriate. And, as has probably been true all along when it comes to Shawn and impropriety, Gus is secretly completely thrilled and rather than being pushed away, is turned on. 

"You know that's right," Gus mouths against Shawn's cheek. He can't keep himself from smiling against stubble. "If you wriggle out of these manpris, I can give more care and attention to these glitter balls." To punctuate his point, he slips two fingers down and brushes against the paper-thin fever-heated skin that's easily accessible. 

Shawn's hips rise and he barks out a laugh, delighted. As he rises off the couch, Gus tugs his manpris down off the curve of his ass. It takes another minute of undignified squirming, kissing the whole while, but every inch of revealed skin is perfect. Shawn's dick, now freed from its confines, slaps up against his abdomen, and for a second, Shawn just pushes against the back of the couch, chest rising and falling rapidly. It's a weirdly beautiful sight. 

Like Shawn, Gus has been wondering if he'll get to this point and freak out because it's so different, because in the flesh isn't the same as on the screen, because he's never before thought dicks were aesthetically pleasing. But the taut line of Shawn's body, the deep red flush all up his chest, the fact that it is different and in the flesh, works a shudder up his spine and he wants nothing more than to see what other hidden parts of Shawn he can unlock. Gus goes to stroke him again, but Shawn takes his wrist. 

"Your turn," he says, not nearly as casual as the words would suggest. 

He watches enraptured as Gus flicks his button and then delicately pulls down his zipper. Now that they're not kissing, Gus has the ability to stand up, so he does. He effortlessly pulls down his pants and boxers, kicking them away as elegantly as he can muster. Shawn stares at him, a drop of saliva dangling off the right corner of his mouth. 

"You make such a pretty fucking picture," Shawn moans; low, indecent.

They're still wearing their shirts, which is stupid. It's obscuring too much skin. Gus is about to say that just as Shawn is surging forward and pushing his hem up, fingers dragging along his abdomen and torso, not even bothering with undoing his buttons, but taking advantage of the fact Gus wore a too-large shirt this morning. It gets flung into the far corner of the room, joining Shawn's pants. 

"C'mon son," Shawn murmurs, "with a body like that you should spend all day every day naked and unashamed. I wanna cover you in lavender oil and then just slip and slide."

Gus pushes Shawn back down onto the couch, silencing him with a deep, filthy kiss. It's not very coordinated, and nowhere near as precise as usual, but it's thorough, and impassioned, and molasses-sweet. Shawn is deep in the cushions and Gus is on top, holding up his weight with one arm. It's not the most comfortable he's ever been, but the bed is too many steps away. Shawn flutters his hands up his sides like he isn't sure what he wants to press against next, all light caresses and indecision. It tickles, but in the good way. For his part, Gus begins to inch forward and back, sliding his dick into the groove of Shawn's hip. He gives an experimental roll of his own hips and moans at the sensation. There's just the perfect amount of friction and smooth and Gus could do this all day, except that he has a feeling he's not going to go very long before he tips over the edge. On the next thrust their dicks slide against one another, and Shawn gives a choked-off grunt.

"Yeah, that's it, that's it, I wanna feel your chocolate thunder, I wanna feel it so hard."

Gus gives Shawn what he wants, upping the tempo of his rhythmic gliding, the tip of his cock leaking trails up and over Shawn's already sweat-slick skin. And he's done this before, of course he has, rubbed against a hot body mindlessly, but it's never felt quite like this. There is something heavenly about the shaky gasps Shawn makes, how he arches up into Gus like they're magnetized, how he keeps trying to give and take more and more. His eyes are slightly crossed and his breathing is irregular and rapid. Gus would be worried, except that it's hot seeing Shawn so out of control.

"Press a finger up my Hershey trail, I want to feel you inside," Shawn babbles. 

"What the hell?" Gus asks, collapsing into laughter. He is so confused. He'll be damned if he can predict the kind of porn Shawn's been watching. His stomach hurts he laughs so much. Shawn's eyes uncross and as he realizes Gus has stopped rubbing against him, his mouth makes a moue of distaste. Gus uses his free hand to tilt Shawn's chin up, thumb at the corner of his kiss-red lips. "I can't even, Shawn, you are the worst."

"God, whatever I've done, I'm so sorry," he starts but Gus kisses him again to shut him up, laughing against his mouth.

"Don't you _ever_ apologize for this," Gus demands when he pulls away. "But if you make any more chocolate references, I will have to find one of my ties and gag you."

Shawn doesn't look remotely disturbed by that suggestion, but he does defend himself. "I can't help it, Gus, I see you and my mind is en route to delicious addiction."

"What you just said wasn't about me. At least, I don't think so. Oh my gosh, I do not want to think about it."

"What did I say?"

Gus laughs again, but slowly, slowly, begins to rock his hips once more. "You don't know?"

Shawn pouts. "I did tell you I'm porntastically ridiculous. I meant it in every sense of those words."

"Mmm-hmm," Gus agrees. He pushes a finger into Shawn's mouth. "Suck it."

There's a light in Shawn's eyes as he sucks Gus's finger, swirling his tongue around and around. It's very much like reverence, just the other side of amazement. Gus reluctantly drags his finger out of Shawn's mouth and brings it down, gliding over Shawn's balls and behind. And, yeah, his left arm is starting to ache from ensuring he's not crushing Shawn, like he's done thirty-five reps without stopping, and maybe the mood should be gone, shot to pieces, but if anything Gus wants them to lose themselves more than ever before. Shawn has always been the best kind of appalling influence on him. If Gus is totally honest, the reverse has also always been true.

Shawn jolts upwards when Gus teases gently at his hole. 

"God, yes," Shawn groans. "Fill me up, drill me deep."

As Gus continues to stroke against him, fingertip just catching on the rim, Shawn's writhing, and his hips are stuttering against Gus's, and they both know this isn't going to last that long. Breathing is suddenly difficult, thinking even more so, and Gus is too on edge to care that Shawn has begun to liken him to a Greek God, murmuring, "Fuck, yeah, please, yeah, please, I'm your slut, I'm a big, fat slut for your cock, rub me, cover me in your seed," in a constant litany. Shawn is gripping onto his hips, fingers digging in hard enough they may leave faint marks later, another way for Shawn to brand Gus as _hishishishishisnotyourshis_ , but not enough that Gus is in pain. Or perhaps the pain is heightening the pleasure, like Shawn's wayward mouth, Gus can't say for sure. 

Gus wants to keep watching Shawn, because he's slack-jawed and flushed pink high on his cheekbones, but his eyes close of their own volition, and he can't do anything but rut against Shawn with single-minded devotion. He's hyper-aware again of the fine details, of the jets of air against his face, the low and high notes of Shawn talking, the not-quite-wet-enough slide of their bodies.

He isn't sure which one of them begins to come first, it's a close-run thing. All he knows is that his hips snap into Shawn two, five times and then he's spilling between their bodies, shuddering through the after-effects. His head's gone fuzzy, his lower lip is bitten sore, and he's become fully boneless. Shawn is grunting through his own release, voice wrecked and totally obscene. 

After several long, long moments of cuddling in the mess of them, Shawn's voice rings out, weary and not at all ironic, "Oh, Gus's body, you're divine. I bow down at your altar and praise you in all your magnificence."

"I'm looking forward to you kneeling for me, Shawn," Gus replies, sleepily.

"You know," Shawn says, wriggling until he's created a gap for Gus to half sink into. "There are moments when you sound kind of porntastic yourself."

"Oh, I could totally take you on," Gus confirms. 

"You won't beat me, though."

Gus looks at Shawn from under heavy lids. "You're just gonna leave that wide open aren't you?

They point at one another, too quick after such strenuous activity, then snuggle closer. Next time, they really need to start in the bedroom. Whenever Gus looks up Eric Stolz is gazing at them, a look of pure disgust on his freeze-framed face. He says as much to Shawn, who presses a kiss against his neck and then mumbles, "you want there to be a next time? You're really okay with this?"

Gus scuffs a slap upside Shawn's head. The only victim is his hair, but he hopes he's conveyed everything he needs to. "The only way there isn't going to be a next time is if this time doesn't stop, we just continue until the end of everything. I am more than okay with this."

"Gus, where've you been all my life?" Shawn asks, and it's a joke, Gus knows it a joke, but there's a thread of earnestness, there, that same glow in Shawn's eyes that says _home_ and _I'm so lucky_ and _yesyesyesyes_.

Gus tilts Shawn's face towards his and speaks against his lips; a kiss that's some kind of wonderful. "Where I'm gonna be the rest of your life. By your side."


End file.
